Don't Bring Me Back
by o4o86
Summary: Grimmjow/Ichigo. Ichigo/Orihime. Four years of war, five years of torture, and three years of searching, only to find you in the arms of someone else. Grimmjow's POV. AU.


**Disclaimer:** Bleach and its characters are the legal property of Kubo Tite.  
**Pairings:** Grimmjow/Ichigo (Ichigo/Orihime)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Four years of war, five years of torture, and three years of searching, only to find you in the arms of someone else. Grimmjow's POV. AU.  
**Word Count:** 1,322  
**A/N** at the end.

Please listen to _My Skin_ by _Natalie Merchant_ when reading this fic! goto LJ ver. for DL link.

**LJ version: **lf-maggie(dot)livejournal(dot)com/8492(dot)html

***

It wasn't like him to surrender to such weak, humanly emotions as he was now; softly tracing calloused fingers against smooth, white wood and taking in the sickly sweet scent of garden lilies and evening dew. But then again, the years had changed him, stolen who he was and broken what little remained until he'd realized it could never be the same. As they could all, never be the same. He rose swiftly from where he'd been seated on the front steps, grimacing at how clean and neat everything was and silently made his way to the doorbell. He pushed once, leaning to gently touch his forehead against the cool surface of the door as he waited, closing his eyes and listening for the carefree voices flowing from inside the house. He noted, just as he'd noted the night before, and the one before that, how warm and _happy _they were. Shuddering, he forced himself to shake that bubbling rage and unwanted tightness clawing at his chest, willing him to leave _now _while he still could but at the same time urging him, _ordering _him to claim what was rightfully his.

-

"Daddy, doorbell!" announced Haruki excitedly, reacting positively to anything that could possibly postpone bedtime.

"Yes Honey, Daddy knows," answers the child's mother as she pats his head and gingerly places a glass of milk on the table. "Are we expecting anyone?" she wonders, looking to her husband.

"Not that I know of," he replies with a shrug, finishing the last bite of his cookie, "but I'll have a look."

Halfway out the kitchen, Ichigo turns abruptly and adds with a smile, "You two stay right where you are, Daddy'll continue the story in five minutes". The promise earns him a loud "Hurray!" and a soft giggle as he heads down the hall.

-

Everything he'd rehearsed endlessly for the past two weeks disappears on the tip of his tongue like a magician's trick, leaving him naked and helpless before the shocked and disbelieving gaze of Kurosaki Ichigo. He thinks for a moment he sees a flash of relief in those large, chocolate brown eyes, but the younger man slowly begins to shake his head in doubt, silently mouthing words of _'Fuck no. No no no no no...' _as he did so. Like an addict in withdrawal, Grimmjow could only move towards his drug with dire urgency, well aware of the needy and pained expression stupidly glued to his face but unable to redeem himself in the other's presence.

_It's been too long._

Setting a foot onto the cherry-oak floorboards, he is so very close to him that Grimmjow could practically _feel _Ichigo's skin on his own. That scent, that taste, so bittersweet and achingly familiar; he wanted him so badly it hurt more than anything that Aizen or the Kings of Soul Society could ever inflict upon him. Even as Ichigo's brows furrowed and his face twisted into an expression of anger and panic, Grimmjow was unable to do anything but reach out and touch the one he yearned for, breathing hard as a torrent of emotions overcame him, guiding him by instinct. He grazes a thumb over Ichigo's cheek, tenderly, _almost _lovingly. But his touch is like fire to the younger man, hot and dangerous and causing the redhead to gasp in alarm, jerking away from Grimmjow as if burned.

"Who's there, Ichi?" came the concerned voice of Inoue Orihime. _Kurosaki Orihime,_ thinks Grimmjow with disgust.

Hearing her footsteps nearing, Ichigo snaps out of his reverie and hastily assures her in hushed tones- _'Everything is fine'_ -before closing the door behind him and with the shear intensity of his gaze, forces Grimmjow to follow him away from the house and towards the dark canopy of two plum trees. They stand in awkward silence, Ichigo staring at him with a mixture of confusion and distress, but the disappearing act was still in effect and Grimmjow could find no words to answer the other's unsettling gaze.

"Miss me?" he finally manages in a husky whisper, sliding trembling hands into his pockets and trying his best to appear calm. Though he had somewhat recollected himself, the entire situation was tearing him apart, working against his inherent nature and compelling him to forget _why the hell_ he was so fucking anxious and to simply crush the younger man against him in a heavy embrace.

"What the fuck are you doing here", Ichigo demands, voice low and clearly upset before Grimmjow could act on his instincts.

He would have growled in response--a flash of _sonido _to stand behind the redhead, snaking his arms around the other's waist, trailing his hands down those narrow hips and feeling his pulse, breathing his air, tasting his heat. Yet he remained motionless. "Of all the things to ask me, Ichi," Grimmjow offers instead with a tired half-smile.

_A flare of frustration in the other's eyes:_ "Stop."

Too loud for the quiet garden, but too soft to instill its true meaning. Ichigo seems to realize this as he continues, the scowl that Grimmjow could only reminiscence in broken memories, plastered on his face, "I don't know who you think you are, but it's been fucking eight years."

He wanted to say, _"It wasn't my fucking fault", _but never had a chance as Ichigo shakes his head in some personal defeat, forcing Grimmjow to scan every inch of those troubled features, struggling to decipher even if just a little, what was going on in that complex mind of his. Until Ichigo began stepping back, away from Grimmjow and the canopy of shadows, eliciting a hiss of irritation from the Arrancar, and moving to stand in the last rays of evening sun, his sweet voice as cold and harsh as its ever been, telling Grimmjow to vanish. _"Leave." _

_Don't you dare turn your back on me._ Unable to tear his gaze away, Grimmjow watches in panic as the younger man turns towards the house.

Without a moment's hesitation, he flashes before Ichigo and seizes the other's wrist in a death grip, twisting Ichigo's arm behind his back and leaning down, closing his eyes and breathing in as he gently kisses the other's cheek, jaw, sucking tenderly on an ear, tracing his tongue against the shell of soft flesh. It was only a matter of seconds before an angry cry escapes the other's lips as Ichigo begins to thrash in resistance, but Grimmjow only moves closer, wrapping his free arm around Ichigo's and finding the other's hand, entwining their fingers and burying himself in the redhead's sweet-scented hair. _"You've grown taller," _he whispers.

"Grimmjow." Ichigo had stopped struggling, trapped in his embrace, and Grimmjow could feel and hear the other's heart beating, breaths shallow, and slightly pleading tone of voice as Ichigo sighs in frustration, "You have to let me go. I have a wife and a son."

But he doesn't care, he already knows that and despises it with every fiber of his being. And when the front door opened and there was the blasted woman and her child, _their _child, in her arms as she seemed to somehow stare _past _Grimmjow and furrow her brow in confusion--he refused to let go.

"Daddy, who's that?" asks a small, high-pitched voice and Grimmjow's attention snaps to the kid; it's head of orange hair, young rounded face, and those chocolate-brown eyes that he knew so fucking well, fearful and awed at the same time. And he lets go, backing off with a burst of _sonido _into the shadow of the trees as Ichigo gasps and regains his posture, rushing to his family and touching the child's cheek, wrapping a protective arm around Orihime and ushering them into the house without looking back. _"No one's there, Haruki, let's go inside now."_

Grimmjow stays where he is, resting a shoulder against the rough plum bark and ignoring the salty streaks marring his face.

.

.

.

_End._

***

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm writing more for this. It was a plot bunny that demanded attention but didn't have enough to really be a fic . *meh*  
**  
****EDIT: Short sequel:** Can't Go Back

**Updated 05/17/09 - much tense problems :(**


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